If I Sang about a saddle with a lasso and a gun,|You'd thing about a cowboy beneath the prairie sun|But I sing about a pine tree with a bucksaw and an axe|I sing about a big man, The Canadian Lumberjack.||Oh Hey! To the happy workin' bushman, Of Canada|He's a lumberjack|Oh Hey! To the master of the bushland|He's born to live, By the big bold axe|He's born to live, By the big bold axe||With a whopper giant breakfast, of pancakes, beans and mush||And then you'll hear him whistle all mornin' through the bush|And when it comes to hard work there's just no turnin' back|That son of a gun ironman, The Canadian Lumberjack||Oh Hey! To the happy workin' bushman, Of Canada|He's a lumberjack|Oh Hey! To the master of the bushland|He's born to live, By the big bold axe|He's born to live, By the big bold axe||And when his day is over, he'll talk with many chums|He'll sing about the sweetheart, He'll wed when springtime comes|